


Just hope for tomorrow

by PurpleRose244



Category: The Last Kids on Earth (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Book 2, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I loved season 2, Jack is Not Okay, Missing Scene, Nightmares, Nightmares about death, Poor Jack, Quint wants to be there for him, Right after episode 4 The Zombie Parade, So yeah, Spoilers, Trust Issues, go watch it, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleRose244/pseuds/PurpleRose244
Summary: Jack has pretty bad nightmares, and it might be the least of his problems. Quint just wants to help, and possibly let his stupid best friend know he is not alone.(Set in season 2, The Zombie Parade)
Relationships: Jack Sullivan & Quint Baker
Comments: 21
Kudos: 106





	Just hope for tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> SEASON 2 WAS AMAZING!!! <3  
> Alright, this is heavily focused on Jack and Quint's amazing friendship, but if you ship it by any chance go ahead, don't let me stop you! ;) This is basically the night after the graveyard fiasco, so you know... ANGST. Also there's a reference of one of my favorite animated shows, can you find it? If you know me you already know XD  
> Enjoy! ^ ^

Maybe it was since the day he started living on the tree house, that Quint had been hearing _that_ noise. The feeblest actually, a very low sound, easily mistakable for the wind or, you know, the apocalypse happening outside. As a scientist, it had caught his interest since the first moment. As a teenager and a not so proud member of the ‘I’ll cover you’ club, he had decided that it wasn’t really worth it wandering aimlessly, no matter how well protected this place was supposed to be. Besides, it was just him, his best friend, and probably the console left on after another marathon at Fist to Face III – which he proudly won, all hail to the lightning warrior master. Nothing worth losing his sleep for, especially since his normality was currently filled with zombies and giant monsters.

Then, at some point after recruiting Dirk and June in this crazy crew of survivors Jack liked to call family so much, something maybe Quint had started to like just as much, the little scientist had noticed the sound evolving.

From a very low whispery noise, kinda like a very shy chatter, to a pant of some sort. Less heavy than Rover’s snore for sure, way less lighthearted as well. Yet again, Quint had decided to leave it. The change was a little worrying, of course, but explainable. Since it was somehow coincident with their new friends’ arrival, maybe it was the tree resenting the added weight. Or maybe it had been Jack’s snore all along, and Dirk’s had suddenly covered it, since the different frequencies between them were evident.

_ Though it didn’t sound like a serene sleepy sound at all _ .

Then one night, after almost getting killed – not like that was new – by a hairy eyeball with sentimental driving quills – that was a little new –, Quint heard it again. And again too, it had changed. Now it was closer to a whine, still low enough to make him think it didn’t want to be heard. Too much for the heavy sleepyheads downstairs to notice.

Quint grunted. If he were to be caught by insomnia because of fear and curiosity, he would had preferred a night with him not this tired from running, crying, hugging, crying, falling from a cliff, landing on a kiddie pool and crying again. His eyes were sore, both from exhaustion and those burning tears filled with toxins. And feelings. That was definitely not an ideal moment to break his personal vow to not go look for the creepy sound, no matter how the idea of winning that Nobel for the greatest scientific discovery of a lifetime could make his feet pinch from excitement.

Eh, as unfocused, reckless and even unreliable as Jack was, it was only thanks to his optimism that Quint could still have those silly thoughts for the future. Almost as this apocalypse was to end soon and fast. Speaking of him...

A cold fear gave him a shiver, Quint felt his heartbeats accelerating. The sound was coming from Jack’s room. That... that made no sense, right? It couldn’t be anything dangerous, or there would had been some kind of repercussion in the morning. Like a zombie sleeping under his pillow, or a one-eyed monster that had replaced the alarm. But this noise wasn’t even that unrecognizable, or unhuman, it had a certain tone. Even familiar.

As soon as his mind was switched on, there was nothing he could had done anymore. Quint sighed, got into his shark slippers, crossing his nude arms – gone was his bathrobe, fallen on the battlefield by monster’s quill like a true hero –, slowly putting a foot after the other. He could feel his breath getting in and out too fast. It couldn’t be dangerous and he knew it. It couldn’t be dangerous, and he knew it. Yet he mentally kicked himself for not even bringing a weapon with him, a bat, his ping-pong shooter. Even Thrull’s bestiary he hated so much could had come in handy... at least just to see it slammed against some nasty looking creature. But he didn’t trust himself to go get something and then follow the noise once again. It was now or never. Foot after foot. For once he felt frustrated he had his room so close to Jack’s. He caught a glimpse of his best friend’s very messy bed and he held his breath.

In retrospect, Quint might had kicked himself once again for not waking up June and Dirk, in case it really did turn out to be a zombie or something. Again with the solo stuff involving Jack, a one-way ticket to scold land with lady Del Toro would had been what he deserved – or just a very heartfelt slap on the back of his head from Dirk, really.

It became so very meaningless when he got inside, and understood. Hating himself so much for not checking in sooner, from the very beginning.

“Ah, Jack.” Quint whispered, getting closer to the shaking figure. “Why do you always keep for yourself the important stuff?” He sat down near him, crossing his legs, trying to get comfortable. He wasn’t going to leave this spot anytime soon.

Jack was curled up on one side, shaking madly in front of his eyes. The various shirts he would use as blankets were scattered all around, leaving that one figure shaking. His forehead was covered in sweat, locks of black hair sticking on it, others just dancing gently after every single pant. There it was, the noise. A very distinct whine with gritted teeth, interrupted just by sudden anxious exhales. It looked painful. And uncomfortable. He didn’t look sick at first glance. But he was not good either.

Quint tightened his lips together, grabbing a random shirt – the less smelly, there wasn’t much competition. He folded it, then slowly passed it on his wet forehead. Jack gulped, turning on the other side, still asleep. If that could be called sleeping.

“D-don’t... nah...” Jack tensed, curling even more onto himself, like he was trying to escape the pain, or hiding. He rolled once more, his eyelids were fluttering. “... Q... Quint?” He looked unfocused, he had deep bags under his eyes. They were so evident now, it never showed before. Perhaps his joyful nature was enough to ignore them. Perhaps it was easier pretending they weren’t there.

It didn’t matter. Not right now at least. Quint smiled at him, passing the shirt again.

“Hey friend. Tough night?” Jack didn’t answer, just kept staring with that lost look. Like he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“... you’re alive?” That tired, almost apathetic voice was absolutely wrong on someone like Jack. It sounded questioning, curious. Like he was perfectly able to believe that the answer was no.

Quint felt a wave of tension making him shiver. He let threw the shirt between the others.

“Of course I am. We survived Mr. hairy eyeball monster together, remember?”

“Oh… oh!” All of the sudden their ‘hero' stood seated, laughing nervously. “Yeah, of course! The, the hairy eyeball, sure. That's what I dreamed of, ahah, silly me.” He swallowed, then crossed his legs while holding his ankles. “Uhm, so, what brings my favorite scientist to my humble abode this fine night? Videogame marathon? Midnight snack? Wanna poke Dirk with my bat and see who gets the most pokes before he wakes up and smashes our heads together?” It was a pretty legit list to be honest.

Not enough distractions from this matter though.

“I heard you whining.”

Jack froze.

“... oh .”

“Oh? That’s your answer, just oh?”

“Well what do you want me to say?” He shrugged, still grinning, still with his face covered in sweat. “Sorry for waking you up I guess, but I’m pretty sure my sleep-talking isn’t as loud as Dirk’s snoring… or June’s… or yours really, what are you even complaining about?”

Quint sighed. Figured this was to happen.

“If you’re gonna be like that, I might as well get comfortable.” He went on his knees, gesturing with his hand towards the bunk. “Scoot over, leave me some space.”

Barely a worried look, not even a reply. From the countless sleepovers they had, this was as normal as battling a horde of zombies to get to the mall – which was their kind of normal. Just lying next to each other, eyes on the ceiling, their breathings synchronizing without them realizing. It was both the memory of more peaceful times and the beginning of all this hero situation. The apocalypse had started, then they got Dirk, they not-saved June, and all of the sudden this had become less present and more memory. 

A lot had happened, so much it was really hard to keep track. Jack hummed.

“Been a while, huh.” No answer, Quint knew how to make this obnoxious guy talk. Silence treatment was just one tactic. “Look, I just had a bit of a shady dream, nothing much. Really.” _Shaky_ would had been a better word. The photographer was still trembling like a leaf. Even worse, he was crossing his arms to make himself stop, moving continuously his hands from his armpits to his elbows.

Quint wasn't having it. He turned to him, smiling, trying to recall what his mother used to do whenever he had a nightmare. Something Jack was sadly unaware of.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I… no, well, you know already. You kinda- The zombies that attacked you at the bowling pub, they just finished the job. Just what you would expect, exactly how you said before!”

“I said it was the hairy eyeball.”

“... oh.” That answer was plain dumb, both the listener and the talker were aware. “I, yes, that’s what I meant. You kinda get confused after a while, I mean, zombies and monsters! Both deadly, both scary, both could kill you. There’s... there’s really nothing to be worried about, you know. It's fine.” Silence. It was really, really scary quietness with his best friend around. It was serious, cold, hostile. Unnatural even.

Quint bit his lip.

“You had other nightmares before, did you. Many times.” Right now, for a little bit of serenity, Quint would had liked to be less perceptive and quick-thinking. Just for not feeling this frustrated inside.

Jack shrugged. His eyes were getting so lucid, his lip was trembling, but he was still forcing a smile out.

“Just a little. Usually happens the times we almost get close to our demises.” That was the opposite of little. “Like… uhm, when I was getting to your house, your babysitter broke through the door and got you. Or while we were sleeping in the tree house the first night, it fell down because whatever and you didn't make it. You know, that kind of stuff.” His hand was up in the air, towards the ceiling. Looking for something to hold on to?

Quint sighed gravely. Sometimes he really wished he could just stick thoughts inside that careless head, just to make him understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?... why you never tell me?”

Jack actually laughed at that, a little.

“I don’t think it’s up to you if a giant monster wants to eat you or not. Just like it’s not up to me if I dream about June getting slaughtered by a monster’s teeth while she screams, or Dirk getting strangled by monstrous, vine thingy jungles. It's just my brain being stupid I guess.”

“This is not okay, Jack.”

“... I know. I know it’s not okay.” His fake smile finally fell. Just like that, the first tears shined on the cheeks of this reckless and terrified photographer. “I’m fine thinking that this is a game, that this apocalypse is a great occasion to prove myself. But pretending that you guys are safe, and that tomorrow we will be there one hundred percent, t-that I can’t.” He brought his arm over his eyes, sobs shaking his shoulders. “You almost died twice today, Quint. How am I supposed to ignore that?” His voice was so low, so ashamed. It was wrong, so wrong. Jack was supposed to be overbearing, loud. _Happy_.

Quint swallowed, his throat burning. Not here, not now. He needed to be a support, not make him feel sorry. Time to be Quint-essential again.

“I understand, but you shouldn’t focus on what could have went wrong. You should see what turned out right, we both survived after all!” He glanced with a smile at his friend, who was looking back at him with tearful eyes. “I know that this is scary, I do. I could have lost you too, so many times before. But I'm happy that you're alive, and that’s what matters.”

Jack snorted without a smile. He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes pointing at nothing.

“That's different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a family. I'm a friend. If I die, you'll still have someone to go back to. If something happened to me, it wouldn't make that much or a differen-" Quint's hand had moved by itself, hitting Jack's face as hard as he could. “… I can't tell if you're trying to slap me or you're just giving me a particularly strong caress.” As hard as he could resulting in a headache of so many gym teachers during his whole life.

Quint had tried to hold it together, he did, just for him. But this guy was too stubborn and blind and oblivious and _so_ stupidly caring and in pain, there was nothing left to hold back those sudden angry tears streaming from his eyes.

“Jack Richard Sullivan, how dare you??”

“… Richard?”

“I needed a long name to express how angry I am with you!” He grabbed him by his shirt, feeling his fingers pulsing. His eyes, and chest, burning. “You really think that you would be that easy to forget?? You really think you haven't already found your way into my life, becoming an irreplaceable piece?? You're an idiot! I didn't even know what friends were before you came along!!”

Jack's eyes softened, his cheeks were still humid. Bags under his eyes, a pale skin, something his cheerful nature would usual erase the next day. But this was not tomorrow yet.

“Quint…”

“You have the audacity to become my best friend, believe in me and the weird inventions that caused me to be picked on by guys like Dirk, and ultimately change my life, while still thinking I don't care about you?!?”

Jack quickly shook his head, blinking a few more tears.

“T-that's not-"

“Oh no, no no, I heard enough baloney all day from you, now it's my turn to talk!” Quint poked him on his chest. “You are the most obnoxious, reckless, irresponsible person I've ever met and I wouldn't want anyone else at your place! We are literally living through the apocalypse, my parents are out there somewhere in this chaos and the only reason I'm living through this the best I can is because you're here!” A sob broke his speech, Jack looked like he was scared to put a word into it.

Silence engulfed them. Usually the night was never silent in their city, between all the deadly creatures wandering around. With the latest zombies disappearance though, it had become so quiet. Almost unbearable. Too much space left for gloomy thoughts.

Jack swallowed, eyes fixed on the scientist, pupils shaking.

“I… I'm sorry…”

“Don't be, just stop taking all this burden on your own. I care about you a lot, we all do. Get it through that thick skull of yours, okay?” Quint sighed, letting go of the – quite smelly as well – shirt if his best friend. “Because I don’t wanna lose you either.”

Just in time for Jack to launch himself and hug him, so strongly and desperately. With that formidable instinct at blocking his respiration.

“Sorry. I'm so sorry, I-I…” His wet eyes were pressing over his shoulder. “I... I-I think I have some more hairy eyeball toxins in my system. Don't mind me. I’m just g-gonna… let these stupid things out of my blood stream or something.” The forever arrogant and prideful kid was doing this, the same one that so embarrassingly had held onto him while crying hysterically his eyes out in a graveyard. His pride was really useless sometimes.

But perhaps this once, Quint was ready to play that game. Just because there was no restrain anymore, and his own sobs were getting ahead of him. He just hugged him back, as hard as his feeble arms allowed him to.

“S-same here, dude. S-stupid hairy thingy…” And with that admission, his best friend forgot completely to muffle his sobs and let go, crying all over his pajama shirt.

Only after a whole while of sobs, tears and very embarrassingly loud sniffs  – very surprising knowing they still had tears after the sentimental qui lls – , Quint had felt a realization sink in and break his heart. Jack hadn't answered back. He hadn't even tried to act like he wanted to share his weight, too busy feeling sorry for himself and his friends. Too busy letting out everything that was hurting him, that could very well be just a very slim part of a bigger problem. If the noise was any indicator, it had been going on for a while. A very long while. What of before? While Jack was all alone? What were his worries back then? Quint had dreamed about his family being taken, and his best friend as a zombie. What of Jack? Hoping that his lonely days had been better than these current ones was an awful thought.

Suddenly Jack cleared his voice, still without moving an inch from the hug.

“Hey, Quint?”

“Mhm?”

“… thanks for answering your walkie, back then.” There was such a soft smile behind those words, it cleared the night. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

Explaining it would had been useless right now, not when his best friend was stuck with this overprotective mentality in which that same photographer mattered so little. So all the days, the hours, the minutes and seconds Quint had waited for him to call weighted a ton more. Sleepless nights of uncertainty, when Jack could had been zombified, eaten, killed. What if he didn't make it home? What if he had been kidnapped? What if that single, rushed promise back at school when all had begun was going to be the last time they would had seen each other alive?

Quint took a deep breath. Taking it in that he was here, Jack was here, they were all here.

They could enjoy being alive and united, just for a bit.

“Thank _you_. For reaching out for me.”

Everything else could wait for tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> The development of the characters in Book 2 was really impressive, watching Book 1 you already see that many things had changed. And Jack, wow. Jack is so not okay, my poor baby T-T
> 
> I love BrOTPs, sometimes even more than my main OTPs (and I LOOOOOVE my main ships <3). Since I think Quint knows about Jack being an orphan, this allows a very open situation as well. Their friendship is so beautiful, you guys!!! But yeah, one good conversation won't erase all of Jack's problems. I just firmly believe growing to trust his friends is a very good medicine for him :)  
> With all the excitment for this new season I just had to put down something! I hope you liked it!
> 
> Well, that's it from me! Leave a kudos, a comment, and remember to watch out for zombies and giant monsters :P  
> See ya!! byee!! ^ ^
> 
> P.S. Let me know if there are some errors!


End file.
